


Both Hands (another Happy Ending remix)

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Condoms, First Meetings, M/M, Massage, Misunderstandings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Sex Work, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: I always said, one day, I would write a sex-worker remix for my fic Happy Ending. This is not that. You don't need to have read Happy Ending for this to make sense – the premise is that Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and that's all you need to know about the original.In this remix, Steve is still a mobile massage therapist. This is a porny one-shot, and has no plot.This work fills the prompt "Lost in Translation", which is box G2 on my STB Bingo Card. It also earns me the "Mix Tape" badge!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 196
Collections: STB Bingo: Round One





	Both Hands (another Happy Ending remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Happy Ending](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761755) by [Robin_tCJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ). 



Steve’s not entirely sure, at first. Mr. Stark’s moans and mewls might be entirely innocent. It might just be that the man is overworked, tired and stressed, and in desperate need of a massage. Steve understands that -- he’s a mobile massage therapist, _of course_ all of his clients are overworked, tired and stressed. And most of them don’t have the time to commute to different massage therapy spas. He gets that. 

But Mr. Stark’s moans are growing fevered, and every time Steve gets close to his lower back, or the top of his hamstrings, Mr. Stark’s legs move just a little further apart. He’s naked under the towel, Steve knows. Not all of his clients get entirely naked for their massages. He always makes sure to tell them to disrobe as much as ‘feels comfortable’, and most of them choose to keep their underwear on. But Mr. Stark’s naked under the towel. 

And Steve’s not, you know, _blind_. He knows Mr. Stark is an attractive man. He’s far enough on the sexuality spectrum that most of his partners have been men, so he’s seen his fair share of gorgeous male forms. But Mr. Stark is… just the right amount of compact, muscled, fit. He’s strong without being bulky (like Steve, himself), and his muscles are in good form. He’s svelte without being wiry, slim in the waist and thick in the thighs. God, he’s exactly Steve’s type, and his ass is… if Steve were a poet, he could write sonnets. The man is _exactly_ what Steve likes in a guy. 

And the sounds he’s making as Steve digs into his traps, into his glutes. It’s like liquid sex pooling in the centre of Steve’s body, begging him to partake. 

He maintains his professionalism, though. He’s a massage therapist. Some of his, um, _colleagues_ who are more well-versed in the sex work aspect of thing would know exactly what to do next, but Steve’s not one of them. He has no _issues_ with it, but it’s not something he’s done, and not something he intends to do. He’s a massage therapist. He’s taken all the anatomy classes and the kinesiology classes and he’s all about the musculoskeletal relationship of pain and nerves and muscles and _jesus_ the noises Stark is making. 

Steve’s throat is dry and he can hear it clicking when he tries to swallow. He’s hard as a rock in his scrub pants, and Mr. Stark’s skin is like fire under his palms. 

He finishes with the back of Stark’s body, and he hopes, hopes, _hopes_ Stark will keep his eyes closed because he can’t imagine a world where he isn’t blushing furiously and obvious in his arousal. He lifts the towel, averting his gaze, as he entreats Stark to turn over onto his back so that Steve can work on the front of his legs, as well as his neck and shoulders and pecs. 

Stark turns over, and Steve’s eyes flick to his face. He’s got his eyes closed, thank god, but his mouth is slightly open, his lips pink and slick and glossy. His throat bobs as he swallows, and Steve drapes the towel over Stark’s hips, and nearly chokes on his own tongue at the sight of Stark’s erection tenting the terry fabric. 

“God,” Stark moans, and spreads his legs further, and Steve is only a man. He’s only human. 

His hand, of its own volition, starts at Stark’s ankle and slides up, slick with oil. Up his shin, up his thigh, up to his hip and under the towel, and Stark makes a punched-out sound of arousal. 

“Finally, god, you tease,” Stark groans, bending the knee of his other leg and lifting it up, spreading himself open. Steve is a professional. He is a therapist, he is careful about how he acts and conducts himself with clients. 

But _jesus_ , he is only a man. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” he says, and his voice is low and breathy without his consent. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” Stark moans, and spreads his legs wider. 

Steve’s hands are slick with oil, and he’d been staring at the plump fullness of Stark’s ass for 40 minutes and he’s hard enough to cut glass. 

He slides his hand up the inside of Stark’s thigh, to his groin, and the weight of Stark’s heavy balls against his fingers makes him shiver. His slick fingers move straight to the cleft between Stark’s cheeks, to the hot, soft skin and the wrinkled furl of his hole. Stark cries out, and his hips tilt up, and that’s all the invitation Steve needs. He lets his oil-slick middle finger dip into the furled hole of Stark’s entrance, and he groans at the heat at the same time that Stark groans at the breach. 

“Fuck, yes,” Stark moans, and that’s the encouragement Steve needs. He pushes his finger deeper, and Stark’s arms snap to grip under his knees and pull his legs wider and more open. 

“Do you want me to make you come?” Steve rumbles, and Stark gasps before he answers. 

“Fuck, yes,” he gasps. “That’s why I booked you, handsome. Didn’t think you’d be so fucking hot from your ad, but, god, yes, please give it to me,” Stark bursts out. 

Steve is too distracted by Stark’s cock, jerking under the towel, the slightly dark patch from the dampness of precome, to pay attention to the words. 

He reaches out and slides the towel off and away, letting it drop to the floor, baring Stark’s beautiful, dark, hard cock to his gaze. 

“Fuck,” Stark moans, and his hands come up to his chest, fingers moving to his nipples to role and pinch the little brown buds between his fingers. It’s gorgeous to watch. 

Steve pushes his finger all the way inside Stark’s burning heat, then slides back out and in again, basking in the feeling of Stark’s slick hot walls. 

“Touch my dick,” Stark moans, and Steve isn’t stupid. He knows how to follow directions. 

He wraps his other hand, slick with massage oil, around Stark’s beautiful erection. Stark moans, and Steve takes that as encouragement to stroke up and down. 

A bead of precome forms at the head of his cock, and Steve swipes his thumb over it, using it to further slick the slide of his hand up and down. Stark cries out, and Steve can’t help himself - he curls his middle finger, deep inside Stark’s body, rubbing the pad of it over where he thinks Stark’s prostate is. 

Stark jolts, the sound he makes deep and musical, and Steve can’t help but do it again. He pulls his finger out, pulls his hand back to the pump bottle of massage oil on his belt. He pumps it once to add more of the slick oil to his palm, then goes straight back to Stark’s hole, rubbing it over the furled skin and then pushing two fingers in, going deep and relishing the blissful sound from Stark on the table under him. 

He curls his fingers, rubbing against the tenderness of Stark’s prostate, loving the way Stark’s cock throbs in his other hand and the way Stark’s whole body jerks on the table. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” Stark moans, and Steve fucks into him with his fingers, stroking and pumping at his cock with his other hand. Stark’s whole body bows off the table, arching and tensing with pleasure, and the sight is gorgeous to Steve. He can’t keep his own moan of pleasure in while he fingers Stark and jerks him off. 

“Fuck, Fuck,” Stark stutters out. “Fuck, please, just – fuck me, I know that’s not what you guys usually do but I need –” 

Steve can’t even breathe, but he stills his hands, a punched-out groan coming from his chest. “Condoms?” he asks, shocked at the sound of his own voice. It’s like sex and whisky and pain and desperation. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stark moans, then sits up, waving in the general direction of the end table beside the sofa. “In the drawer, jesus, I need you in me.” 

Steve reluctantly relinquishes his grip on Stark’s cock and pulls his fingers free, then steps around the massage table to the end table. He opens the top drawer, gratified to immediately find a box of Trojans. They’re a little on the small side for him, usually, but he can make do. He tears open the box, pulls out a foil packet, and steps back to the table. 

Stark does a graceful twist, levering himself up off the table and turning so he’s bent over it, his beautiful ass pushed out for Steve to admire. 

Steve pushes the elastic waistband of his pants down, under his cock and balls, and tears the condom package open with his teeth. He pulls the rubber ring out and pushes it down over his cock, hissing between his teeth with pleasure as his own fingers remind him of the sensitivity of his own hard-on. 

He rolls the latex down over his cock, and steps forward, pumping another couple of tablespoons of the (thankfully) internally safe massage oil from the bottle strapped to his belt. He pushes the bottle to the side so it’s out of the way, and rubs the oil over his cock, thrilling at the taboo of what he’s doing. He swipes the remainder of the slick fluid over Stark’s hole, then steps forward until the front of his thighs are touching the back of Stark’s. 

“In, please, in,” Stark moans, rocking back as he spreads his legs further apart. 

And, fuck, Steve can’t resist. He pushes forward, using one hand to aim his cock at Stark’s gorgeous hole, and they both cry out as his cock stretches Stark’s hole, pushes forward and seats itself in his tight heat. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stark whimpers, bracing his legs and pushing back. “Fuck, yes, fuck me.” 

Steve can’t disobey at this point. He pulls back and then thrusts forward, hard, moaning as his cock is enveloped in the tight, slick heat of Stark’s body. 

“Say my name,” Stark groans, pumping his hips back, fucking himself on Steve’s dick. 

“Mr. Stark, fuck,” Steve moans, not even aware of what he’s saying. 

“Call me Tony when you’re fucking me,” Stark gasps, laughter in his voice. “Fuck, your cock is huge, call me Tony.” 

Steve moans, thrusting forward hard. “God, Tony, god,” he moans, setting a punishing rhythm of thrusts forward. The sound of his hips slapping against the plump full cheeks of Stark’s – Tony’s – ass fills the room. 

“Jerk me off, fuck, please,” Stark – _Tony, dammit_ – gasps. 

Steve reaches a hand forward, sliding over Tony’s hip and gripping his cock. He jerks it fast because he’s impossibly close to orgasm, and he wants – no _needs –_ Tony to come first. 

Tony’s cock is hard and hot in his hand. He strokes it, keeping his grip tight as he fucks into Tony’s body. 

Tony cries out with each thrust, pushing back against Steve’s cock. 

“Fuckin – huge goddamned cock –” Tony is choking out between thursts, and it’s enough to push Steve right to the edge of orgasm. He jerks Tony’s cock harder, slick and tight and fast, and then Tony cries out, his whole body tensing with pleasure and urgency. 

Steve can’t stop himself, grinding forward and spilling into the condom as he feels the hot slickness of Tony’s release spill over his hand. 

He keeps fucking as he comes, relishing the cries of pleasure from Tony’s throat he as shivers and jerks beneath him, coming and coming and coming. 

Finally, Steve slows, letting his body rest a moment draped over Tony’s before he pulls out and back, fingers pinching the base of the condom around his softening cock. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Tony moans, shivering with aftershocks. “Fuck, that’s the best $200 I’ve ever fucking spent,” he gasps, panting. 

Steve blinks. Had Tony Stark, playboy-billionaire-genius-philanthropist, been _expecting_ to get fucked? Steve flicks back over everything Tony had said over the last few minutes. Had he thought Steve was… you know, a sexual masseuse? 

“What?” he asks, blinking. He doesn’t move to pull the condom off, just steps back and flusters in Tony’s direction. 

“God, I needed that,” Tony moans, standing up and reaching his arms over his head, stretching. 

It’s then that Steve belatedly realizes that Tony had misunderstood. There are plenty of massage therapists that travel from home to home for convenience. There are also plenty of “masseuses” that travel from home to home to allow for a more, er, _intimate_ experience. 

Clearly Tony had set up an appointment with Steve expecting the second category. 

The problem is that Steve is firmly ensconced in the _first_ category. He has never, _ever_ , in his life done anything as unethical as having _sex_ with a client. He is a consummate professional. He’s accredited, he’s certified, he’s _licensed with the state_. 

Oh, god. He’s going to lose his license. 

Tony has turned around and is leaning against the massage table, and clearly he’s watching the play of emotions on Steve’s face. 

“Oh,” Tony says, staring at Steve’s expression. “Oh, no, I messed this up, didn’t I?” he says. 

Steve pulls his pants up, covering himself, then takes a couple of steps back to put some distance between him and Tony. “I’m a horrible person,” he moans, wiping his oil slick hands on his shirt. “I can’t believe I – oh, god.” 

“Hey,” Tony says, looking confused. “Sorry, was it supposed to be a hands-only thing? I don’t mind, I asked you for –” 

“I’m not a sex worker,” Steve blurts out, and Tony’s eyes snap wide. “I’m not a – I’m just a regular massage therapist, I’m not _that kind_ of massage therapist.” 

“Oh.” Tony blinks at him. “Oh, wow, that is… that is my mistake, I thought the ad said – it said ‘ _Late night appointments_.’ It said ‘ _Your pleasure is my business_ ’!” 

“Of course it did,” Steve agrees, because he knows what his ad online says. 

“Right, but that’s… that’s pretty dirty, right? Like… that _sounds_ like a ‘happy ending’ kind of massage.” 

Steve blinks, turning the phrase over in his mind. The ad is new, he’d just put it online yesterday, and Tony had been the first client to call for an appointment – one which he’d asked for the same day. Steve needs the money, of course, so he’d shuffled some things around and fit him in, and… oh, god. Now that he thinks about it, the ad _had_ sounded really dirty. _Really_ dirty. 

He stares over at his bag on the sofa, where his work phone is. He’d not checked his messages before this appointment, but the display had said he had 18 new – oh _no_. How could Bucky have let him - 

“Oh, no,” Steve moans, his knees turning to jelly. “Oh my god, I’m going to lose my license for this, and apparently the whole internet thinks I’m a mobile rub-and-tug service and I had sex with a _client_.” 

Tony reaches back and grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist before stepping closer to Steve. “Seriously, that part was great,” he says. “I’m not going to, like, report you or anything. I _clearly_ wanted to have sex with you. I mean, I thought it was just going to be a rub and tug thing, too, but you’re so hot, I just… I mean it. I won’t report you, and it was really, really good.” 

“I have to pull the ad,” Steve says. “I need to change my number. I’m in so much trouble.” 

Tony laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I really meant it, this was incredible. You’re gorgeous, and your hands are magical, and your dick is –” 

“Oh god please stop.” Steve feels his traitorous dick twitch a little at the praise, because, well, he’s human and he’s a young man with a healthy sex drive and Tony Stark really liked having sex with him. 

Tony laughs again. “Actually, now that I know you didn’t have sex with me just because I paid you to do it… Guess that means you wanted to have sex with me, too?” 

Steve sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “Of course. Have you seen you?” 

Tony grins, and it’s cocky and sure and beautiful. “Well, then, I’m just gonna let you know, I’m probably going to ask you to dinner, and then I’m going to see if I can’t convince you to do it again.” 

Steve swallows hard, his throat dry. Dinner with Tony Stark? “Like, a date?” 

“Exactly like a date,” Tony confirms. “Maybe even multiple dates. Would you like that?” 

Steve’s face relaxes, and he smiles a little, locking onto Tony’s beautiful brown eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.” 


End file.
